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Full text of "Wordeater"



( \ hilt / lilti i i ii iW\\\ ' ■ ;/ 1 ■ \ 











Vicious Cycle, continued 



of empathetic souls? 
Walk, walk, 

we \/alk and walk, 

cutting our feet on thorns — 

but there are roses too, 

and we have yet to smell them 

Oh, the folly of yea mortals 

Like vast, amorphous amoebas 

You creep 'cross your narrow environments 

Always rushing to ingest new meanings 

With your ravenous pseudopodc 

Always starving, trying to devour 

more particles of life 
But I ask you this my confused friends, 
Do you know the whys and ways of 

what you are? 
Have you used your awareness 

to poke into your own nucleus? 

the core of your Self? 
Have you encountered the power and peril 

of that which you claim as your ox?n? 
Yes, we toss the word "soul" out 

across the waters 
Like a skipping stone which must sink 
But what are we discarding 

into the depths? 
Diamonds? 

Or fool's gold? 



Judy Belfield 
I WATCH YOUR BREATHING 

I watch your breathing — 

chest rising and G0 f t l y falling 

in a gracefully predictable rhythm, 

now and then a quivering movement 

in the skin. 
I can trace the hairs, 

one by one among the many 

from those that peek 

through the vee-neck of your sweater 

to those that hide below 

lying silkenly in smooth, 
curving patterns 

where I cannot see, but remember. 
I spend this time 

thinking these thoughts, 

making marvelous pictures of you 
in my mind , 

not so much in a state of desire, 

but in appreciation, 

colored with a certain smugness — 
I could touch if I wanted, 

but I'd rather dream like this 
instead. 



Mo E Cox 



Judy Belfield 



IRIS 



SOMETHING PERVERSE 



It occurred to me the other day 

It seems you've got a magic way c 
Open those green eyes wide, my child 
Show me a rainbow; drive me wild J 
Bless thee, Goddess, for thy kiss 

is like fire; 
Like ten thousand volts 

at the ends of the wire. 
Iris, you shook me \Txth all of your might 
With the beauty that shines 

through my dreams of the night 
With the touch that lingers 

long after it's gone 
And the embrace that warms me 

right down to the bone. 
There it goes again, oh Lord! 
You zapped me with that extension cord. 
Top floor, swan-dive, thirty flights high, 
Then it's over, just like a sigho 
Tell me the truth, 

could it ever be sol 
I wish it could, 

but I don't think so. 
Elated, 
Deflated, 
Seems, 

Like a dream, 
Again, 

And again. 



-25- 



His life didn't mean much to him, 

except pain, 

so he ended it — 

as though it were his, 

to do with as he pleased. 
Most of us have had moments 

when it didn't seem possible 

to go on, 

yet we did„ 

There are those of us 

who have searched for meaning 
in vain; 

who have sifted through thoughts 
and feelings for purpose, 

and finding none, 

have suffered our existence 

to persevere in anguish, 

in private hells, 

sometimes so horrible, 

words cannot tell of them. 
We live on, 

and for what? 

To see our endurance mocked 
by despair? 

To see our agonies made so simple 
and ended so easily? 
His life didn't mean much to him, 

and so he ended it. 

We heard the news, 

and after a too-short moritorijin), 

progressed with business as usual, 

without much more thought to him. 

Tt would seam his life 

didn't mean much to us either,, 



stat-jl-***** 



To Jo 



From Duct}^ continued 



I pray to my God and thank him for you, 

who is younger, 
I wish that all of ug, who are older, 

could be blessed to have as a friend you, who are younger £ 
Our separate lives draw uc together, and push ug 

apart. Our separate lives, have, at times, 
Become so welded together that I hear 

you call me even when we are not together 
You, who is younger, have taught me, 

who is older, much in our short time. 
But I, who am older, look to you, who is younger, 

and give,, 
I give the life that I have lived, 

and chare it with. you, 
I give the energy that I possess, 

and increase your power, 
I give the wisdom of my age, 

and teach you, 
I give the emotions you have yet to feel , 

' and show you, 
I give the thoughts from my mind, 

and let you think them, 
I give the love 1 can offer 

And you find nourishment in it, 
I give all that I am, 

and help you search for the all in you, 
I give and you take, 

and you thank me for the gift, 
I, who am older, look to you, who is younger, 

and take, 

and give. 



'w'«V 



W*. UA-tf 



Judy Bel field 
AND SO IT C0HTH-IU3S 



Belfield, Cox, Dickinson and Moore 



And "so it continues — 

the unending decay, 

the eternal disease, 

the infinite annihilation — 

eating away at life 

like the ocean's 

relentless erosion of rocks, 

c on sumi ng mass, 

restructuring it, 

making of it, sand crystals, 

which wash out to sea 

and form beds , 

or shorelines, 

or maybe castles. 
This is the re-creation of things — 

the purpose seeming to be 

one of perpetual reconstruction, 

made possible by a million tiny death* 

which become more insignificant 

with every second that lapses 

on the everlasting clock. 

And here lies a moment 

dead before it was noticed, 
wasted before it waa vecognir.eul — 
unused, unseen, uneventful, 
it passed into oblivion — • 
And so it c. ou t i nu e s , 



VICIOUS CYCLE 

To create 
to live 
We create our lives 

Push the right buttons 
Grind the gears 

Smile, act nice — 
All for the applause of the 
endangered people 

who care, or claim to. 

Destroy me 

but take my all 
There's only a little left 

nine lives, uh-huh 
I've only used two 
I see something, up there 

beyond what's here 

help me find it. 

Where do we go? 

Where are we headed? 
Dare we take the next step 
into the Great Unknown? 
And who shall we take with us 

hand in hand? 
Or must we walk the road alone? 
Or do we anyway- 
Even in the company 

(continued) 



-24- 



I Dreamed Of You , continued 



I will dream of you tomorrow night, and love you more than ever. 

Together forever will we be, I swear,, 

We will walk, hand in hand through the moonlight,, 

And the misty mountains will smile upon us* 

Destiny will remain intacto 

For after the night, when I awake, 

Together we will remain* 

Else I shall remain, simply cold* 

And dream of you for eternity* 

So be it* 



Belfield, Dickinson and Moore 



MENTAL MEANDERING S ON A TUESDAY AFTERNOON 

(The blood-red ink of questing minds 

Spews forth as rhymeless poetry 

It has no purpose by itself 

But when it is gazed upon 

By souls in tune 

It takes on its own 

transcendant value) 

Their eyes met, olfactory senses raised. 

Tactile intentions in their souls 

Subjective universes revolving 'round each other 

All verbalization secondary to internal communion 

They slowly danced to the music inside them 

Her yard-long hair sensuously brushed his body 

His breathing trembled 

Rising and falling 

She could feel his heartbeat 

as she pressed her nose to his ear 

and whispered wordless phrases 

kissed his neck softly 

and moaned almost inaudibly 
And thus they sought to imbed themselves in the Amber of Eternity 
Seeking souls 

Trying to stop in mid- stream 

of Time's onerous flow* 



******** 



Dusty 



TO JO c * * FROM DUSTY 

I, who am older, look to you, who is younger; 

and take, 
I take the life that you have, 

and live it with you. 
T take the energy that you possep.q, 

and increase my power* 
I take the wisdom of your youth, 

and learn from it„ 
I take the emotions that you feel, 

and remember mine of long ago, 
I take the thoughts from your mind, 

and think them* 
I take the love you can offer 

and I am nourished by it* 
I take all that you. are, 

and find the all in me* 
I take and you give, 

,->ml 1 th^nli. von for the gift* 

(conti lined) 



His Place Or Mine, continued 

a Rollex gold watch and hie finger minus After my cigarette was lit, we 
any sign of marriage,, stared into each others' eyes and I 

At the sight of no wedding band, ray could see he had questions too c Just 

heart smiled as I thought, "Pat, looks like as I was about to break the silence 

you threw seven on your first roll of the by thanking him for the light, he 

dice." Then ray brain searched frantical- spokeo Very softly, almost l ductiv, 

ly to come up with the right words to cap- he said, "I'm Gerald Collins ;: "t 

ture him At the same time, I was trying the same time, he was reaching .his 

to figure out a million questions I had hand into the inside breast pc 

about him What he did for a living? of his jacket. He came out wi a 

Where did he live? Who did he live with? big gold-colored badge that loc .-! 

His place or mine? My ears felt like the size of an armor plate., "I'm 

smoke was seeping out of them from all with the FBI. Gould you come with 

the work my brain was doing in record- rae I'd like to talk with youe" 

breaking time Damn morals and plaining As I slid off my stool, I replied, 

demure and modest, I knew what I wanted "Your place or raineo" 
and I had to have hin„ It vras as simple 

as that ******** 

******** 

Daniel Preston 

I DSEAMED OF YOU 

I dreamed of you again last night, I held you tightly, 

so tightly in my arms. And remembered — 

How I loved you then, and ever will, 

From afar„ So very far D 

The distance grows, as does ray love And hate Q 

So much, how much alike are these „ 

You said yours el f» 

Just before you — 

Stop it; i 

I dreamed of you again last night, for a while you were mine,, 

How fleeting is the astral world* 

How beautiful the night* And beautiful you were* 

I whispered that I loved you, and you whiopered the same. 
A warm breeze blew through the treetops* 
And the lover's moon shone brightly,, 
How many times did you and he walk in the moonlight? 

How many times did he say he loved you? 
With a plastic smile,, And touch you, 
And — 
The painl i 

I dreamed of you again last night, and perfect was the world,, 

Things amok became repairedo Destiny xeturned. 
My life again perfection. With you» 
I wanted only you The softness of your skin„ 
The gentle fragrance of your hair* 
Your long;, soft, warm, crimson hair s 
Crimson as my blood on your hands , 
And your blood on his„ 
And ray blood on my — 
No* Don't:! 

I dreamed of you again last night, and innocence, returned,, 
Reality, so jaded, was reborn fresh. Ify mind was clear,, 

Clear, and cold as the mountain aire 
How tall and uncaring the mountains were 
They've seen it all before,, And will again* 
Hot Io Hover again,, 

IJever again to feel the icy dagger that pierced my soul 
My scars are gone. 
Hot healed, but gone 
Are they indeed? 
I think no to 

(continued) 



Endurance, wmtinued 



When the seeds of tine have bloomed and died, 

And the many become one, 

And the earth a spinning pebble 

Around a dying sun, 

When the mill of change is grinding hard, 
And the i'ilky Way is grist, 
When entropy spew chaos 
And rules with rusted fist, 

When the here and now, and then and there, 
And days of men are through, 
I'll feel gold lace spun 'round my soul, 
And I'll remember you. 

******** 

Dickinson and Moore 



Patricia McNairy 



THE ENDS AND MEANS OF INNOCENCE? 



In her hand he stood, 

Poised, ready for flight e 
Ruffled feathers from my touch, 
But stay 

I can bring you up from 
the depths 
that you persist in 
clinging to 6 
So unruffle your feathers, 

and I will calm you» 
I will put pennies on your eyes 
I'll not tell a soul 
Let's keep the monsters at bay 
"Welcome to my syndrome o" 



II 



HIS PLACE OR MUTE 

I was dining alone that summer 
afternoon. Sometimes I just have to 
spend a few hours of the dry just col- 
lecting my thoughts by eating out or 
going on a window-shopping spree. 

The restaurant hostess said there 
would be a slight delay before I could 
be seated* She suggested that I take 
a seat at the bar and have a drink on 
the house until my table was ready B 
She concluded by apologizing for the 
inconvenience,, 

As I took a seat at the bar, or- 
dered my drink, and took a cigarette 
from my purse, a small flame appeared 
out of nowhere to do the honors, Nat- 
urally, I looked for the source from 
which my lighter cane. 

Lo and behold, ^ere was a face that 
should have been on the cover of "Gen- 
tlemen' s Quarterly," His skin was so 
smooth it would have put a baby's back- 
side to shame It was obvious he never 
had to shave and his coloring was rn 
even paper-sack brovm. He had large 
brown eyes with heavy eyebrows, a snail 
nose, nice full kissable lips, and 
beautiful sparkling white teeth. His 
hair was neatly trimmed and of excep- 
tional good grace for a black man D 

This man stood about six feet tall 
and of medium build, I guess he weigh- 
ed about one-hundred- eighty pounds with 
what looked like a thirty-inch waist, 
I could picture him as the u Playgirl" 
centerfold for any 
month i 

As I looked at the hand that held 
the cigarette lighter, I noticed he had 
long fingers with nails that were 



Ladies and gentlemen, my jury 

I must certainly confess my need „ e 
I swirl on the edge of a whirlpool 

I am magnetised by her presence 
By all that's holy, I even enjoy being in her company i 

But my friends , do not accuse me 
Of weakness and frailty in this matter 

In my own way I am a paragon of power 

Still I am firmly entrenched and my feelings 

' , manxcured to perfection, "My goodness ," 

re tender ,'"*.'*• x thought, "what did I do to deserve 

Ana must be protected at times, ° '-.,,. ., . „,, 
m . j. . .. the presence or this Adonis?" 

one is a free spirit v _ ju . , - , # 

., .-^ , f . * «., I am particularly observant: or 

Adrirt and bestowing her caring upon the many , *\. • -n • c t 
<?r,„-n t * •*. ^i. noin i -, . a man's attire, especially if I 

Shall I admit the P^xn and longing , . _ ■ i - -. * - „. . „„„ 

T , , rsl- o have some interest in him. In this nan, 

I experience under such conditions? . . .... „„.**. 

a j / -r t_ • i.*. «. *. no I was interested, vn.ll.ing, waiu- 

A need for sometning I have no right to control?. , , ., . ', . „ tt „„ 
t „ ... ^ L.f.^. r- +. *.. mg, and damn the fooc* He was 

I must ouestion the ability or my static , , . . A 

and fortified emotions arssGea ***** 'JP ** ^^ ° a ^' 

, , . _, . . ., "At 1:00 p.n, on a Wednesday, 

to deal with such circumstances , ^. 

* ,. T a t ,- be wasn't an executive, so ne 

And I fear I am empty , , , , „ 

must be a proressional man, doc- 
tor or lawyer of some sort." He 

wore a navy blue doubls-breazted spovfc 
Dragging me down 

I need not justify jnywaXf hedEovG you 

Begone l 



Ah, but ignorance of the soul is no excuse 



Your judgments are invalid and burdensome 



11 



'Tlxvmi me down a vopei" 



******** 



coat with two interlocking G's 
on the gold buttons, signifying 
Gucci, He had on a light blue silk 
shirt, one of those no-collar high- 
fashion jobs, open at the neck with a 
single gold chain bearing the sign of 
Libra, gray gabardine slacks and navy 
blue (.htc^l loafers- On his wrist was 

(continued) 



-21- 



Judy Belfield 

I HAVE LOVED YOU 

I have loved you 
so fanatically, 

with such singleminded concentration, 
that my mind seemed to slip 

through the silent chambers of my soul, 
seeking its way into another realm, 

where it might be free from flesh 

and the constraints of thoughto 
I have loved you 
so severely 
that I thought my skin would split, 

my bones shatter, 
and I seemed held together 

only because there was no breeze 

to breathe upon the fragments* 
I have held you near 

in the dreams of a thousand moments, 
pressing my noce softly in your hair, 
as my nerves trembled 

like the crumblings of light from a falling star 
and your voice shivered in my ear 

like the asthmatic sigh 

until my heartbeat boomed 

like clapping thunder 

trapped between the buildings in a metropolis,. 
I have loved you 
so painfully, 

as though you were the air my l^ngs needed to survive, 
as though you made the blood move in my veins , 
and, in your absence, 

the blood changed course, 

and came rushing to my throat, 

as my lungs gasped and choked 

and reached for you in. desperation, 

trying to scratch and claw apr.tt the coffin 

in which they'd been interred alive, 

and like Madeline Usher, 

I grew wildly insane with the effort, 

because death would not visit and quiet the agony. 
I have loved you 

with the fervid asceticism of a saint for her god, 
and I carry a stigmata in a secret place 
which, still, sometimes 

bleeds tears „ 



Maureen Mueller 



A LOVE SOITHET 



Mike Gtillman 



The braided fob made from her raven hair, 

he wcae go grandly, tucked inside his vest; 

Her gift of love, that no one else would share, 

withstood the fifty winters, love would test 

The golden signet ring upon her hand, 

a symbol of his trust, such fervor flamed; 

Exemplified the spark, devotion fanned, 

The passion burned, the embers still remained,, 

These simple trinkets bound the two for life, 

'midst many tribulations through the years; 

But weathering their trials, as man and wife, 

they found through love, thi t even psiin endears,, 

The truest love will always reinsure, 

U»ou@b f.nfotn unkind, the 8t%-angth ran 9 till endure. 



EHDUBANCE 

When another flood has come and gone 
And the glaciers have shot through, 
When beast is bone, and bone isrock, 
And rock becomes dust too 



With decay the only scent still 

And wind the only soiind, 

And Fort Knox is just a trinket 



( 



continued^ 



left 



-AAvVjVAAA- 



-20- 



Judy Belfield 



fESTEBDAY WAS TEARS 



Yesterday was tears. 

They came rolling 

from an aching head 

which didn't care to control* 
I was somewhat mystified, 

yet masochistically fascinated 

that one tr ee I'd seen so a .any autumns before 

became too ora n ge-red to bear, 

too fireblazingly beautiful to look at — 

and so I cried, 

confused, 

remembering the nagging ache, 

which ached more with the remembering, 

and tried to think of something 
in my forgotten past 

which caused this bewilderment,, 
But just as my face dried, 

a child on a tricycle pedalled past, 

crunching through fallen leaves, 

c miling , 

as the sun painted a soft halo about his head 

and ke became too innocent to see}. 

so the tears came again, 
blotting him out 
It was just a headache — 

just the remains of a vicious headache — 

tampering with my temperament, 

making things sharper, 

honing them into a painful acuity 

worse than the headache itself, 

yet I pleasured in the pain, 

because my eyes saw fiercer colors, 

my ears picked up subtle inflections 

I might have missed another day, 

and I felt more intensely, 

as though I absorbed things into myself — 
they and I seeming to become 
inseparable — 

and it was nearly intolerable, 

yet I indulged myself willingly. 
But that was yesterday*. 



Maureen Mueller 



MY TALISMA1T 

My talisman „ o «, 
Bringing good fortune, 
Breathing new life, 
Illuminating days, 

Enhancing n ights, 
Stirring forgotten emotions, 
Fulfilling desires, 
Promising eternal love. 

Cradled in my heart, 

Selfishly hoarding this treasure 

Wary of intruders, 

F#lishly becoming 

possessive — 

demanding — 

Mow love has gone, 
The magic is lo3t — 
For he was my charm, 
My talisman,, 

**** * * ** 



Cathie Durkee 
PLEASE 



***** 



Judy Belfield 



LITTLE BY LITTLE 



Little by little, 

we are pulled from one another 

and with every tug, 

the muscles stretch and tear 

beyond repair 

until we begin to forget 

what wholeness reallj'' meant. 
We left our markers along the road, 

but like bread crunbs to sparrows, 

they were quickly consumed, 
day, 

we will cit in ;:'un- for sale en atrbore, 

isolated not only from each other, 

but after all the ties have been 
ripped from our souls, 

we shall be stripped of our pasts as veil, 

and vjb will b« so alone — 

and so old. 



Take me from this place 

That is hard for me to leave 

Wrap me in your caring arms 

Hold me tenderly. 

For the pain has awakened 

Deep inside my breast 

The te ars Q f loneliness 

I need someone to hold on to 

And help me with the rest. 



•ne 



Whatever there was before 
Clings to me night and day 
All the pain that has gone by 
Will destroy me in some way„ 

There has to he more to life 
Than I have thus experienced 
I want to love and enjoy 
All of life's happiness 
To hold and be held, 
Laugh, cry and sing 
Yes, and to really know 
all *:hat I am. 



am 



•V rfCVW* 4\ 4\ *\ /V 



******** 



-19- 



Merry little Christmaa, continued 



scared as hell. IV about you?" 

Medrow nodded and half smiled. The 
Captain had never called him by his first 
name before. "Not a very pleasant time 
to have a battle, is it, sir?" 

"How's that?" responded Shaw. 
"Just before Christmas, I mean." 
"Yeah. Try telling the Krauts that." 
Both men chuckled wryly. 

Chaw held up the demo charge. "This 
-hould make a nice Christmas present for 
Hitler." Medrow nodded and pushed a rock- 
et into the breech of the bazooka. 

The rumblings of the German armor 
drew closer. Corporal Medrow laid the 
bazooka on the edge of the foxhole. Sud- 
denly, off to the left, came the sharp 
sound of anti-tank gun firing. Cpt. Shaw 
tensed. The clanking beyond the edge of 
the woods became distinct, then stopped. 
Muffled voices drifted to the men's ears. 
"Halftracks;" gasped Shaw, recogni- 
zing the sounds. "Get ready!" He knew 
that the German infantry must already be 
unloading and advancing into the woods. 
The supporting American artillery shells 
began to careen in over to the left. 

Suddenly, the whole area erupted in- 
to an inferno of noise. The entrenched 
infantry leveled their weapons. White 
shapes darted in and out of the trees 
to the front, and a machine gun stuttered 
in the white gloom. 

The rocket struck the halftrack with 
a thunderous explosion and a blinding 
flash of light. Pieces of it came raining 
down. The remaining Germans disappeared. 

Shaw peered into tine woods, then sur- 
veyed the wrecked halftrack. No survivors. 
"Fix bayonets!" he shouted. Each man 



Maureen Mueller 

HUSDY-GUSDY 
(not too wordy) 



Love ... 

A hurdy-gurdy 
Grinding away 
Repetitious rhythms. 

The lover ... 

Simian- like, 

Grasping and 

Pocketing 

Each nuance, 

As the organ-grinder ' a chill, 

** ** **** 



readied his -weapon for the next assault. 
Cpl. Medrow pushed another round into 
the bazooka. 

Suddenly, a volley of shots echoed 
in the wcods. The Germans in the cen- 
ter withdrew, but the waves on either 
side kept coming. Grenades began to 
land. The Americans kept firing and 
firing, but the Germans kept coning —id 
coming. 

"Fire at will I" cried Cpt. Shaw, 
and swung his weapon all around, blazing. 
Men of both sides fell, but the Ameri- 
cans were outnumbered. A grenade land- 
ed in front of the foxhole and detona- 
ted. Corporal Medrow cried out and 
fell, clutching his chest. Shaw stoop- 
ed to help. He loosened the Corporal's 
collar and his hand came away with bloodc 

The shots became sporadic and 
stopped. The guns still thundered de- 
fiantly on the left flank, but the 
woods had become ^strangely quiet. Me- 
drow looked up painfully at his command- 
er. 

"We gave them a helluva fight, 
didn't we, Captain?" 

"Yes Nick, we did." 

"Sir?" 

"What is it, son?" 

"What's your first name?" 

"Michael. My name is Michael." 

"Merry Christmas, Mike, sir." 
Medrow smiled weakly. Shaw mustered 
a smile. "Merry Christmas, Nick." 
Medrow sighed once, and his eyes glazed 
over. Shaw closed them gently. A 
shape loomed eb-ove the foxhole. He 
looked up. 

A German stood at the lip of the 
hole with hi 3 rifle ready. "You are 
prisoner," he said in broken English. 
Shaw raised his hands. 

As he climbed from the hole and 
was led past the carnage and smoulder- 
ing halftrack, a strange thought enter- 
ed his head. "Have yourself a merry 
little Christmas." He trudged through 
the bloo^3* snow towards prison camp. 

******** 

Melissa Wessell 

TIMOTHY, OCT. 81 

in your 
looking blue 
eyes, 
Purity 
shines out 
full of wonder, 

(Babies aren't afraid 

to search your eyes 

and read your soul. 1 ) 
and you 
read me cleanly. 



-1 8~ 



******** 



Daniel Preston 



ME2EY LITTLE CHRISTMAS 



The snow whispered gently down through 
the canopy of pine branches. Silent were 
the woods, cave the soft sighing of the 
bitter wind,, The fallen snow lying on 
the branches gave the sky an ominous, 
dark appearance. The softly cold forest 
floor seemed strangely bright in compari- 
son, A distant rumbling suddenly shook 
the ground, 

"That's it," said Captdin Shaw softly. 
He stepped down from the halftrack's anti- 
aircraft gun and picked up the receiver on 
the field radio. They eyes of the infan- 
trymen seated in the vehicle regarded him 
anxious ly, 

"Red Dog calling Rocking Chair? come 
in, Hocking Chair, do you copy? Over," 
Snowflakes fell gently onto his helmet 
and melted. Static rasped in hi s ear, 
then Rocking Chair answered faintly, 

"This is Rocking Chair, Your signal 
is very weak, Red Dog, Go ahead. Over," 

"what is the situation at your loca- 
tion, over," 

"I can hear tanks coming up the road 
around the bend, over." 

Captain Shaw frowned, "Hold then as 
long as you can, Rocking Chair, I am dig- 



ging in, repeat — digging in. Over," 
"Roger. Red Dog, ov — " The radio 
fell dead silent in the Captain's ear. 
He frantically reached for the tuning 
knobs. 



"Dammit," snapped biiaw. 



Shaw. Ho amount 
of adjustment, however, brought the radio 
back to life. He gave it a good, sound 
slap, llothing. 

The nearby artillery units support- 
ing Rocking Chair's forward position sud- 
denly opened up, shaking torrents of snow 
from the overloaded branches. Captain 
Shaw disgustedly threw dox/n the handset 
and jabbed a finger at the pile of picks 
and shovels lying on the halftracks' s 
floor. 

"Get that gear unloaded on the dou- 
ble!" he barked. The soldiers grab W 
the tools and filed out the back r'por. 
Shaw cast a scalding glance on the use- 
less radio , picked up the last remain- 
ing pick and jumped to the ground. 

"Dig your foxholes close to the half- 
track! Dig 'em deep!" He svj ihg the pick 
ferociously. Corporal Hedrcw, who was 
struggling with a shovel nearby, addressed 
Cpt. Shaw. 

"Pardon me, sir, but what did Rock- 
ing Chair have to say?" he inquired. 

Without missing a stroke, Shaw re- 
plied. "He said, 'There are some Kraut 
tanks coming'". A voile;? - of artillery 
fire from the nearby guns drowned out the 
rest of the sentence, but each man had 
heard enough*. The pace of digging quick- 
ened. 



A sudden movement to the front 
caused each man to drop his tool and 
unsling a weapon. "Haiti Apple!" 
shouted Cpt, Shaw. 

"Pie!" rang a voice frcm the trees, 
Shaw relaxed, A group of infantry, led 
by Lt„ Greenwood, emerged from the 
pines. Lt. Greenwood snapped off & 
quick salute, 

"We're the last ones. Captain, sir, 
he reported, "The next thing that comet 
through those trees is gonna be wearin 
an Iron Cross," 

Shaw retrieved his pick. "Break 
out yo ul " shovels!" He shouted at the 
new group. Several had caught the mes- 
sage and already had. The entrenching 
continued in earnest. 

Sweating despite the cold, several 
minutes later, Captain S.ha ; .; looked up 
from his work. He frowned uneasily, 
Soraethi 71 ?' was wrong. Then, it struck 
him. The guns had stopped firing, 

"The guns!" he exclaimed, slapping 
his helmet, "the forward radio position 
must've been overrun!" He looked into 
the trees, as if by some power he cc^ld 
see what was going on. The snow had 
stopped falling, and the wind had 
picked up. Each man listened closely 
straining to hear some sound £bove the 
wind. Several years later, it seemed, 
a distant growling of engines and 
clanking of treads could be discerned. 
"Take your positions!" ordered 
Shaw. The men scrambled to their fox- 
holes, Cpt. Shaw hurried over to the 
halftrack, 

"Medrowi Give me some help here!" 
The two men retrieved a demolition 
charge and a bazooka from the front 

seat of the vehicle, then Shaw ges- 
tured at Lt. Greenwood. 

"Greenwood, you and j^our men man 
the halftrack," he ordered. Lt. Graen- 
wood leapt up into the vehicle and 
pulled back the bolt on the machine 
gun, levelling it at the woods in front 
of the position. 

"Ready here, sir," he reported. 
The rest of his squad busied themselves 
preparing ammunition. 

The Captain looked over the posi- 
tion once more, then gestured Medrow 
into a foxhole. He followed. 

"Fire on my order!" he commanded. 
Corporal Medrow looked at Shaw strange- 
ly. A distinct tone of fear had ci-ept 
into 'the Captain's voice, Iledrow 
cleared his throat. 

"Are you scared, sir?" he inquired, 
3h a w sighed slowly, the little 
cloud of frostj/- breath floating away in 
the mei-ciless cold. "Yeah, Nick, I'm 

(continued) 



-17- 



Songs of the Seeking Souls, continued 

May ell your fondest dreams come true, in the best ways possible, 
I care 

When you see the new buds of spring promising new life, net/ hope. 
Think of ne„ 

When you see the amber- sunset among purple clouds, 
Think of me„ 

Think of me and you will always know 
that someone cares. 

With all my breath 

and to each heartbeat souriding 

I sigh for spring, 
I long for starso 
To you all I give hope for peace. 
Yet to myself, 

Only sorrow do I embrace c 

And thus the curtain is drax/n< 



Judy Belfield 

NIGHTS ARE L0I7G AITD LONELY 

Eights are long and lonely 

confusing me in their blackness 

as I reach for the hand 

that will Touch me. 
Why do I search 

in the tangled, light- forsaken forest, 

stumbling over rocks, 

bruising my arms and legs, 

and cutting my skin on sharp sticks? 
Is there no end, no end, no end 

to the darkness, 

to the emptiness, 

to the agony, 

or ic there hope at the next step, 

where an arm waits to hold me, 

where an ear w"its to hear? 
I have much to give — 

I am pregnant with gifts, 



Maureen Mueller 
SUBTLETIES 



Silent words 

Spoken by longing eyes 

Only I can hear* 



o ^ a 



Awakened dreams 
Relived in his mind 
Told with a touch. 

Emotional gestures 
Given to re G arve 
Accepted with lcve„ 



a a <3 



•k-frfctrkirti'k 



Melissa Wessell 



ANYONE WHO CAN DRIVE AWAY THAT CLEM 



with love stillborn so many times before, 



yet I have life to share, 

and it breeds like rabbits, 

and i"t bleeds like a mortal wound, 

and I am afraid to die* 



irki'cfrk^-ik-k 



Judy Belfield 



SOME MEN 



Some men are like chewing gum — 
The flavor's gone after the first 

five minutes* 



*****-**# 



Anyone who can drive away that clean: 

He says you're not considerate, 

I cay I'm just a fool 

for hearing cons and believing lies 

Your face changes 

each blink frame different 

I caw a lot 

but didn't see 

fool ' s eyes sucked a con 

People try to tell you 

but you hope that they're all wrong 

Sweet/mean/ attractive/ugly You did 

see it louder than 

this couldn't be, Pollyanna, 

hal 



Oh, shit. 



■frkiMnVJrk* 



-16- 



Songs of the Seeking Souls, continued 

I invite all of you to walk bravely 

Into my nind and soul, 

I know that I am odd for the rays of 

sunshine and the rainbows I carry 

Around with me, but to fulfill ny destiny 

I must close my eyes and smile, 

Forgetting the number of times that I have 

been "fucked over," and try to make 

those around me smile occasionally,, 

Perhaps if I make them smile 

I will, in turn, get the affection I 

so long for. 

How that you have seen a small part 
Of my soul , are you brave enough to go on? 

Oh, and try as we nay, 

We can venture only so far 

Into each others' deserts 
before our eyes dry out 

Our souls go to dust 
Yet we are all so lonely 

Our lives are just a farce,. 
If we could but touch each other . . « 

But we are all just so lonely. 



I am floating in my o\m sorrows 
Seeking to grab a hold of salvation 

Which might just be another bit of wreckage 
Drifting in my ocean 

Lacking any solid foundation* 
Perhaps I desire to reach the far shore 

Of other selves, 
But in the end I fear I must swim, 

Swim in the depths of my own being 
Anxiously holding my breath 

Deceiving my selective aloneness with the trivial. 

I walk alone, 

Reaching out to non-existent entities 
pleading for empathy 
which does not show itself hollow 
under the cover of words. 
There must be a mind attuned 
somewhere 

which feels in its essence 
the need for a real reality 
and not just the shams. 
There must be 

a ripped-apart soul 

whose edges match my ox/n, 

but I have yet to find it. 

Perhaps it exists nowhere 

and I am doomed to search relantleucly, fruitlessly 

for someone 

on whom to pour my wretched anguish 
and my expansive joyc« 
Perhaps there is no one 
and I shall die 
of this great emptiness, 
Gc-r earning to the skies 
to the stars, 
to the cosmos 

and beyond — 

for naught o 

(continued) 

-15- 



talcon the children to Yosemite to camp 
instead, 

The hurts from their disagreements to the presents This time, she walked 
and hie transgressions had piled up over slowly to the front door, without 
the ye arc But if anything happened to checking her appearance in the hallway 
him, she knew she would miss him very mirror, Opening the door she again 
mucho faced Officer Sexton and another older 

Again the doorbell jostled her "back officer. Both of their faces were com- 

ber Their faces said it all= LilMaSP 
wept 3 



Belfield, Dickingon, Frink, and Moore 

SONGS OF THE SEEKING SOULS 

Four island realities 

Revolving around a cosmic axis 
Creative forces in a sort of harmony 

Only thus can individuals he united 
And thus the curtain rises on linguistic fusion* 

We gather in our individual ego- shrouds 
cloaked in self, 
soaked in self — 

and attempt to assimilate ourselves 
one into the other* 

As we reach deep into our souls 

We must first come to terms with. our mirrored images 

Before we can truly delve into each others' psyches 

•^nd find the authentic selves inside 

And there "NAKED" of our false exteriors 

We can finally commune and communicate,, 

And with this union of our eternal souls 
We soar 
Seeking our release 

From these ego-chains 
We fly into the darkest eve 
Crying over mortal pain 

Into the nighto 

3u t how can these internal fibres of existence 
Be unearthed, dug up from the primal depths 
Where they have been buried by years of pain 
That have become petrified into solid walla 
''implex and devious defense-mechanisms 
That form the labyrinth palace-prison? 

I sol etc, we, 

cut. off viciously from one and the other 
by accidents we did not 

f orsee , 

or agree to , 
yet we endeavor now to bridge the gaps 

between us 

by sorting out each others' tangled agonies 
and ecsta sjes 

hoping to homogenize our singular experiences 
white retaining our singularity e 

( continued ) 



•14 



The Fisherman's Wife, continued 



on Jack, Jack had been missing from the 
boat for two dayc and nightc and no one 
knew his whereabouts* The Seattle Police 
had suggested that she fly there as soon 
as possible to file the official missing 
person report as his next of kin*. 

She had called her mother- in- lav/ to 
come over and care for the household and 
had taken a taxi all the way to San Fran- 
cisco International Airport, arriving 
there before dawn= She had managed to 
get a seat on TWA's next flight to Seat- 
tle, Immediately upon disembarking at 
Seattle, she was paged to the airport's 
courtesy phone, The Seattle policeman 
apologized profusely. The whole report 
had been in error , Jack had returned 



another boat shoot at him? Well, she 
thought, there could be plenty of rea- 
sons, She should have been forewarned 
when he went to the police two months 
ago and applied for a permit to carry 
a gun, Ughh' That guni How she ha- 
ted him bringing it into the house. 
Before leaving home this time he- 
had taken her for lunch to that rustic 
restaurant in Bodega Bay. It had In 
so pleasant overlooking the ocean and the 
foorl had been go deliciouso She had 
been content to have that time with 
him, but he had been preoccupied the 
entire time. She should have known 
something was seriously wrong. Since 
being elected president of the Commer- 



to the boat angry that the police had been cial Fisherman's Association, he had 
searching for him and stated that he had 
Just been away for a little while for 
"Personal reasons," Lillian thought she 
knew who his "personal reason" was. She 
had been so angry that she just stayed 
"eight at the Seattle airport until she 
^Qfuld get a flight back to San Francis- 
r -°« Jack, after returning home from that 
Expedition, had never given her much of 
an explanation for his temporary .dis- 
appearance. He had only fired the man 
who had reported him missing, Nov; he 
always worked alone; she guessed that it 
gave him a lot more freedom* 

Jack had always been independent and 
self- sufficient, she thought. She re- 
called the time while away at sea he had 
almost completely severed his finger. 



been outspoken, presumably on behalf of 
his association, on many political mat- 
ters. He had been having serious dis- 
agreements with Harry Bridges, the 
union leader. She didn't even know what 
those were about. He also had been 
working to keep the Japanese tuna fish- 
erman out of American waters and to get 
a boycott of Japanese canned tuna in 
America, Could he have treaded on any- 
one's toes so badly that they wanted to 
shoot him? Could a husband or boyfriend 
of one of his "ladies" have wanted him 
out of the picture? 

Not to worry, Lillian told herself, 
He would be all right* He was very com- 
petent at taking care of himself* He 
had taken good care of her too, in his 



xnce there was no medical help available, own v/ay, she also told herself, Itow 



he had carefully taped the finger back 
in place. Over the years, it had healed 
so well that it would be difficult to 
tell that anything had ever happened to 
r -he finger. 

How different she and Jack were , 
Gillian thought* They truly lived in 
two different worlds. He loved the water 
she hated the water so much that it was 
a dreaded chore to take a bath. She 



many of her friends lived in a five-bed- 
room, three-bathroom home with a den 
and library, and also a rumpus room on 
the lower level, ^ow many other people 
purchased their houses with cash, Jack 
didn't like. l owing anybody anything. 
Maybe Jack didn't spend any time around 
the house or make any improvements , but 
there was always sufficient money avail- 
able for her to hire Mr, Preston, their 



j-oved giving dinner parties in their home, handyman of many years 
he despised having to get "dressed up 



h< 



was, however, becoming increasingly 
-oncerned over his appearance* Lately, 

wore his hat as much as he possibly 
fcould to cover his balding head, He 
^-Pt himself lean and hated fatness in 
anyone* Ho x/as not a bad looking man, in 
a digged sort of way, despite the fact 
-hat ho had one glass eye; a glass eye 
'-hat didn't move with the other one be- 
cause it had been damaged too deeply for 
a moving artificial eye* His mother had 
never forgiven him for playing with that 
gunpowder while she was at work support- 
ing the family. Of course, it was dif- 
ficult for a boy of nine to know what to 
do with himself with no one to supervise 
him during the day* 

Lillian's thoughts drifted hack to 
the pxTsaent tsxtiialrAoii* Why would 



All their years together fie ,hed 
through her mind, Th^ir first few years 
had been good* He had supplied the raoney 
to buy him his first boat. They had had 
few disagreements. But then came the 
children sh£ had longed for, and the 
subsequent arguments,, 

She had raised the children herself 
with Jack being away fishing from early 
spring to late autumn, and repairing his 
boat in the winter. He would show up 
a little here and ther e rn< f find fault 
with the way she handled and disciplined 
them. He wanted his sons to be more like 
him* He constantly accused her of cod- 
dling the hoys while she was just h3ing 
a good mother, Whan the boys v.« re young, 
he had wanted to take them on com of 
hir. sunnier fishing trips. She felt that 
v.-.is just too risky and had packed up and 



■13- 



( continued) 



Mary Davie son 
THE FISHERMAN'S WIFE 



The brown kitchen radio rooting on the 



softly 



sprawling white counter top hummed 
as Lillian stood alongside of it, slicing 
celery, The music stopped and the announ- 
cer stated that at the sound «f the tone 
the time would be two o'clock and time 
for the hourly news. Lillian listened 
without too much interest as the news- 
caster indicated that the latest Gallup 
Poll showed Richard Nixon had a slight 
j-ead over John Kennedy in the upcoming 
presidential election. 

Lillian was more concerned with pre- 
paring the dinner for her family and the 
two couples she had invited for the eve- 
ning. She wanted everything to go well. 
s he quickly glanced into the dining room 
at the table which she had carefully set 
the day before. Her wedding china and 
silverware were all shiny and perfectly 
positioned; the dai G y centerpiece was 
st ill fresh looking, but the room still 
looked gloomy. There never was much 
^■mshine i n this part of San Francisco, 
which was so close to the ocean. Tho 
O-rky fog even managed to give the polish- 
mahogany china cabinet and the multi- 
colored oriental carpet a lackluster ap- 
pe^.ranco 

As Lillian started to slice the 
sourdough for the garlic bread, she began 



She could 



would be at dinner for sure, 
count on him. Although very ouiet 
he was always polite and dependable* 
She was glad that she had been able to 
keep him from dating so far. That pre- 
vented many problems. 

Suddenly, the chiming of the door- 
bell interrupted Lillian's thoughts,, 
Wiping her hands on her terrycloth apron 
before removing it, Lillian rushed 
through the hallway. A quick glance in 
the hallway mirror assured Lillian that 
her recently tinted chestnut hair was in 
place. How Jack had hated her pre- 
viously graying hair. She also noted 
with satisfaction that after three 
weeks of dieting her figure wasn't too 
bad for a woman of fifty- three. 

Opening the front door, Lillian 
was startled to find herself face to 
face with a tall, young, dark-haired, 
uniformed Coast Guard Officer. 

"Mrs. Johnson? I'm Officer Sexton 
of the Coast Guard. May I come in?" 

As Lillian showed him into the 
living room, she noticed the graveness 
of his face and knew something was wrong, 
"Would you care for a cup of ceffee, 
Officer?" Lillian felt it necessary 
to offer him the same hospitality that 



to worry about whether Jack would be home she x/ould an ^ other £ ueGt ; 



3 -n time for dinner. His boat was sched- 
a J.ed to dock early this afternoon, but 
after being aboard for three weeks, Jack 
/ould very easily be lured to the Sea 
witch Tavern by the other commercial 
fishermen he knew. The several rounds 
of drinks and long exchange of stories 
could have him arriving for dinner much 
Later than the guests. Also, Jack could 

o very laconic when he was in the com- 
pany of people who showed little interest 
-^ fishing. She certainly hoped he would 
°« Politely sociable with her two girl- 
fiends and their husbands. 

As Lillian bustled around the yellow 
'■'ailed kitchen she wondered if their 

dest c °n, John, would show up for din- 
nr> -r at all. She hoped he didn't have a- 
nother date with Susan. She 
like that girl 

twenty-four and had completed his stint 
in the Army, what she liked or didn't 
like was of little concern to him. 

Marie, nineteen, would undoubtedly 
arrive while the dinner was in progress 
and go sullenly to her room without so 
much as saying "hello" to anyone,, Lil- 
lian just didn't know how to handle her. 
Since that last argument they had a week 
ago, there had keen little *".w:nrc/.-MV. Tt/f.-u 
be.ti^o-u the two of them. 

and foy, 



just didn't 
, but now that John was 



line 



•J'o^'n . ft3JC ;>rid« 



"No thank you, Mrs. Johnson. Mrs, 
Johnson, your husband radioed a 'May 
Day' into the Coast Guard at approxi- 
mately twelve-hundred hours today. He 
indicated that another boat was firing 
shots at his boat. Since that time, we 
have been searching the waters near his 
stated position, but haven't been able 
to locate any trace of his boat or the 
boat that was allegedly firing on him. 
We are continuing and expanding the 
search, but felt that 3^ou should be in- 
formed of the situation. We will keep 
you posted on our progress." 

Trembling, Lillian thanked the of- 
ficer and showed him back through the 
hallway. Slowly she shut the front 
door and returned to the kitchen. She 
pulled a gray chair away from the chrome 
table and for the first time that day ; 
she sat dovm. Many thoughts were swim- 
ming through her head. She told herself 
that this must just be another stunt 
of his. Another stunt like that Seat- 
tle fiasco. How angry she had been that 
time: That was two years ago, now. Jack 
had been on a fishing trip to Seattle.- 
She remembered that night when she had 
been awakened from a sound sleep by the 
raverfre.i\at.ic»is of the telephone,, [The 
■9o.jfci.ie l\>lice I>ep,ar£irienC jraa Calling to 
inform her that Jack's hired hand on tho 
N>at had filed a misoing person report 

C c ontinued) 



-12- 



Extreme Weirdness, continued 

A moment of silence followed 
"I believe we' eve reached an agree- 
ment, Gentlemen," stated the Psychocorrela- 
tor "Throw the switch.," 



Judy Belfield 

EVERY MORNING THEY COME TO THE RESTAURANT 

Every morning they come to the restaurant, 
sit in the same seats, 
and order the same thing -- 

he with a magnificent face, 

so like Norman Rockwell's, 

aged, lined, facile, 

topped with wavy, white, white hair, 

she, slightly stooped, 

with a walk not so tired as his» 
They dress to the teeth, 
these two , 
she in silky print dresses 

belted at the waist, 

sensible shoes that match, 

and a hairnet studded with multicolored rhinestones 
that sparkle in the sunlights 
He wears a dark blue suit, 

neatly pressed, 

that looks only slightly large 

His prominently creased trousers 

are only slightly too short, 

and His two- toned blue shoes 

are off only a shade or two„ 
She leads the way, 
he follows, 
they sit, 
he speaks 

in a voice only slightly too loud, 

that sounds like Jimmy Stewart's 
lowered a notch or two„ 
"Okay o o o okay," 
I hear him say 

slowly, contentedly, repeatedly, 
and sometimes , 
"Okay, hon," 

and he stirs his coffee with a passion, 
attacking the cup with his spoon, 
and the clanking sound punctuates the room c 

People turn their heads curious^, 

the ones who aren' t regulars 

and don't know he does this every day, 

seemingly oblivious to the Jacket he creates — 

but no one really minds 
Later they leave. 

She leads the way, 

he follows, 

both tottering purposefully toward the cash register, 

wh G re everyone hears him say, 

"Oh, I'm fine «, « „ just fine," 

slowly, cheerfully, 

after he's stopped to say hello 

to several people on the way, 
and patted a baby's head gently 

with his long- fingered, wrinkled hands. 
Where do they come from 

and where do they go 

or do they just dress up like this 

for breakfast? 

-ki< ■sV/'oWcsWc 
-11- 



Extreme Weirdneso, continued 



He wondered if an Arie c woman could 
understand insanity., Maybe astrology in 
itself was insane. Maybe not, 

"You know, I'm really insane." 

"Oh, I know thato Let's get crazy 
together „" 

Jees , this is tough, I deserve a me- 
dal for this one. "NO, I mean really in- 
sane. Nutzoid. Toys in the attic. Coons 
in the henhouse „ Over the edge Bats in 
the belfry. Vampires in the ventways." 

She umiled demurely. "Just what I've 
always wanted/' she purred. 

God, maybe she really is different* 
Maybe I'm just paranoid*, Better pinch 
myself o Or better yet, pinch her. Stop 
these thoughts! Halts i You want to get 
stabbed? 

He got up. "Here. Let me read you 
this tory that I wrote and you can decide. 
And this is just white bread. Wait til 
I bring «ut the cracked wheat,'' 

"Anything, lover. Let's write our 
own story," 

"Maybe, Here goes," 

Reba and Sheba usually watched the 
Qynthetarist tune his instrument the old- 
fashioned way, with a solar oscilloscope. 

"It name as a great surprise to be 
the recipient of such an honor," said 
«GDa, combing his flaming red locks with 
What looked to be a v/affle iron. 

"The elders say that the worthy will 
always rise to the top at Springfest. I 
^ thankful that I became of age last 
rf eek„" Sheba carefully applied cosmas- 
-ara to her nose-lashes. It was impor- 
tant to be at her very best for the holy 
ones,.. 

With the grinning percussionizer now 
if-'-ady to play, the two dozen honored ones 
Called the Kree-Vayim, devoted their at- 
tention to the talented quintet, who 
Worked their way through rousing versions 
of "Stand By Me," "Proud Mary," and 
"Chestnut Fever," 

The common folk »f Pastramio stood 
a t the base of the great stone tower try- 
^ttg in vain to hear the music that had 
arcane almost spiritual in nature, Most 
a ^cepted their fate with resignation, but 
sortie were anxiously gazing into the crim- 
son skies, waiting for the flame-spitting, 
People- swallowing monsters of legend that 
always made their appearance on the annual 
day of judgment. Each year, a lucky hand- 
r.ul v/ ao chosen to view the pageant from 
the small plaza at the top of the ancient 
tower in the center of Pastramio, 

One ground-level citizen, a swarthy 
fellow clad in a new bleegskin tunic, 
muttered, "Them goddam slimc-cuckers should 
stay vhere they belong." The good citi- 
zenry were shocked at this sacrilege, and 
they began pelting the unfortunate common- 
Gl ~ with the small pieces of metal that lit- 
tered the ground. Such rudeness was the 
^/rtfrvU.etvt oC inquiring about Christmas 

-10- 



Clubs at the blood bank. 

The twenty-nine on the cap of the 
tower were prancing about like pup- 
pies, and grinning with the enthusiasm 
of a child on Christmas eve. They knew 
that their Santa would come down fr»m 
the skies soon. 

Sheba was the first to spot the 
wings and flames in the eastern sky. 
"Hoi" she cried, and fainted into 
Reba' s arms. "Eternal life!" he 
shouted in a wide-eyed frenzy. 

The jealous kommQners watched as 
the beasts came down from the heavens 
with gaping jaws and stretching talons. 
They landed on the familiar stone and 
began to munch on the twenty-nine in 
an orgiastic frenzy of blood and bone. 
It was spring, and the Swallowers had 
returned to Cap-Pas tramio. 

"Puns are the lowest form of humor 
known to man," she said coldly. They 
both got up. 

"See? I told you." He beamed 
maniacally, gleaming, but disappointed. 

"If you're going to write at all, 
why can' t you write something nice? 
I read this poem last week by a lady 
named Kilmer that was so--" 

He interrupted. "Yeah, well, that's 
the way it goes," 

"It's getting late. I'd better 
leave." 

"Okay, Right this way." He knew 
that he wouldn't call her again. He 
was glad that she didn't have a chance 
to draxz the blade. 

A scholarly group of whitecoats were 
observing the scene. 

"Not quite normal," said the first 
Psychiatrist. 

"Unbalanced," ventured the Psycho- 
logist. 

"Considerably more bizarre than the 
garden-variety abnormalities," offered 
the Psychoanalyst with a raised eye- 
brow. 

"Obviously deviated from the norm, 
perhaps including a slight schizophren- 
iform disorder ," said the Psychobehavior- 
alist, polishing his glasses on his 
sleeve. 

The Psychorationalist tapped his 
pipe. "Gentlemen, I believe that we 
can consider the patient to be serious- 
ly neurotic, with elements of Paranoia." 

"I would go so far as to suggest 
Anhedonia, in fact, a clear case of un- 
differentiated schizophrenia," diag- 
nosed the Psychocryptologist. The 
others nodded in agreement. 

"You're understating the case, Doc- 
tor," said the Psychoneurologist empha- 
tically, "There are quite frankly pat- 
terns of advanced psychosis. This pa- 
tient is a textbook example of a dan- 
gerously acute reactive schizoph "enic e " 



(cont 



muec 



Judy Belfield 



TODAY'S SUN IS TRYING SO HARD 



Today' g sun is trying so hard 

to squeeze through the crowds 

of thick, gray clouds c 
In the east, 

I see it buttering up the sky 

but the westerly gloom, 

like a giant loom, 

weaves itself into an opaque coverlet 

that hides the heavens. 
And I am chasing Stardust — Now, 

trailings of light 

left over from the night 

that lead to glimmering havens 

where I might stay 

until the shimmer fails, 
I think I'll head east — 

follow Old Sol 

to the morning horizon 

where he lolls in his own soup, 

unable to wash out 



his western oppressor, 
and turning my back 
to the ashen-faced shadows, 
I'll pretend there is only 

yellow, yellow, and more yellow, 
while shouting songs of hope 
and goading the feeble sunrayc 
to stretch and feel their power 

against the pallid foe* 
I know 

some da}^ the battle is futile, 
and I might as well resign myself 
to a certain fate, 
while I sit and wait 
for more brilliant times -- 
but there will be 
no resignation from me 
today, 
anyway* 



Mike Stillraan 



EXTREME WEIRDNESS 



Her eyes were tempting* Very tempt- 
ing, because there was mystery involvedo 
That's what he told himself * He 
felt the liquor stalking through his 
bloodstream like a cocky burglar, a cat 
burglar in black, like the bottle's label, 
quiet and grinning, saying I'd rather not 
be nabbed, but who cares, I'll blow their 
heads off anyway* She gave him another 
Cheshire look and he poured another round, 
being careful not to let her see the chip 
on his glass.. As if it mattered at three 
a*m* 

Ninety-nine out of a hundred would 
go for her now, his mind said* Another 
part of him said that the entire hundred 
would„ She was certainly attractive* 
Nice figure, tight in all the right pea- 
ces* She also was obviously attracted to 
him* Flirting, taking steps beyond 
flirting, brushing against him c And they 
got along wellc She even liked his bi- 



zarre sense of humor, most of it. 



She 



seemed infatuated; he could sense her 
watching him sometimes when she thought 
he wasn't looking* So why not? 

I'll tell you why not, he told him- 
self sharply. There have been a hundred 
girls before her, all of them liking my 
looks and jokes at firsts But the more 
they get to knox; me, the more they dis- 
like me* I'm too bizarre, too weird, for 
any girl„ I've got a kind of insanity 



just below the skin* I enjoy it* But 
nobody else ever would* There's no 
mind bridge between us , and empty sex 
just doesn't make it* 

She was making eyes now, those mys- 
tery eyes. He couldn't decide whether 
the sparkle reminded him of champagne j 
or of ice* Sometimes they were bubbly 
and refreshing, other times they were 
chilling* 

With green eyes, you never know, he 
told himself. Most of the others had 
blue eyes, but that didn't mean any- 
thing* It was like a killer on the 
highway, changing clothes but not chan- 
ging faces* Why do they want to kill 
me? Why does the noori - shine? The same 
hand that holds the knife holds the 
key, and I never know which they will 
use until it's almost too late, until 
my heart is exposed* I can still feel 
the scars from some of those mad lunges 
in the daidcness* The first one barel"; 
missed my heart, and it still feels 
cold about a quarter-Inch away* 

"You want to smoke another one of 
these?" she asked him* She was all 
cui"led up in his lap* She* What a 
dangerous word* 

At least I can admit I'm insane. 
Is It true that if I know that I am, 
then I'm really not? Is that the catch? 
Maybe if I weren't so honest with my- 
self * . . 



( 



con\-xnur-r 







■9- 



Madness Rcvi cited, continued 



but she didn' t wake up 
happy like she'd thought,, 

Burning bridges, wheels on fire, 

isn't there another way? 

' cause 

my g-dang prescription 

is so rough, too 

rough for me, 

■*■ ^I&TffA vaccinate me? — maybe 

jp»t tVree days „ „ „ three days = a 

atvd maybe I'll be 

numb enough to pick up prescriptions 

again. 

(^can ya walk on ice? 

r -an ya 

fill me with ice?)) 

let's do the kid a favor, shall we? 

will god ©r the neighbors, 

or the Great Unknown, 

( for I am , too , 

a piece 

of it alio) 

Can we take a little break today? 

• » oGentle Eyes 

is laying up 

stairs, „ .curled up 

on his side and with 

eyes gently closed; 

ne said he loved me just the same. 

But I don't wanna FEEL 

all this suffering;;; hey, 

Johnny , can we take a 

little break? 

'.Don' t even want 
to write 
n reflection)) 

1 took my lovo out -- 

from confinement, 

and laying it 

dumbly out before me 

with eyes of pain I watched 

pierce metal studs searing thoughts 



while watching you 
cavort and play, 
and touching your Dead 
Arm, dull and 
lifeless, at least for 
me, and searing 
--turned- — 
silent tears 
screaming chasms „ 

Later, softly, 
looking outo 

Early morning watching 

squirrel wags tail 

like a cat or an antennae 

beating furry tom-tom across green 

waters , 
two hours past the birds' call 
crickets still chorus. 

People drive by 
coffee-cupped sleep-eyed 
on their ways to work, 
and sitting 
looking at the desk, 

(Soft light is fading now.) 

with the burning-hurting of 

too-little-sleep in the 

eyes, and those lingering memories, 

feelings, and doubts. 

Too arrested 

to go to sleep, and 

too filled-up to do 

mundane revolving tasks. 

So I sit here alone, 

me and my dream machine, 

thinking I may never know, 

and wondering how to 

hide the hurt. 



■vWo'v" 



Elayne Hill 



INSIDE VAN GOGH, EENOrR, RAPHAEL, ETC., 



In lets 

out lets 

subterranean passage 

electro-light fvequenct«3 

bring irridescent color 

to a painter's brush 

tiny little textui-es 

make patterns in the paint 

they unfold a living breathing 

creative work entitled — 

Untitled so the v-J.ewer 



can search for personal 
experience he alone has had. 
An achievement for the artist- 
He's grasped the attention of 



the world. 



**&***** 



-8- 



Ernest McCabe 



YEA, THE WHEELS ARE TURNIN 
(BACKWARDS) 



The wheels are apinnin upstairs 
Smashing green watermelon to 
Reddish pulp, smashing the fat 
Black seeds of thoughts into 
Irretrievable powder, screening them 
From the light of a fixated ray- 
Keeping them free from the net — 
Men who silently stalk the silent 
Halls »f my mind. 

The men stop, look up at the 
Sony plate overhead,, One says, 
"That was a good one today, but 
It's gone" "Yeah, but have you 
ever noticed that it doesn't happen 
Until he tries to use this," He 
kicked the right prefrontal lobe„ 
"Hey take it easy," thw other naid, 
"Don't worry This thing hasn't been 
worked anyway," 

It's virtually impossible to wear sunglasses 
sideways, if you have a prominent af»se, 

******** 



Judy Delfield 

I HAVE HEARD 

I have heard 

that the pursuit of knowledge 

gives meaning to life — • 

how noble, 
how absurd; 
Knowledge is not power, 

does not give purpose, 

but is an unending source of pai* -■• 

ask any guru , 

read any philosopher — 

the road to Truth 

is paved with thorns, 

and those foolish enough to take it 

soon discover 

there is no light at the horizon -- 

indeed, there is no horizon, 

but only an ephemeral goal 

that slips further into the distance 

the closer we think we get, 

until, at last, we conclude 

there are no conclusions, 
but only bloody feet. 



******** 



Melissa Wessell 



MADNESS REVISITED FOR THE FIRST TIME 



The snakes grabbed hold of 
her and l»egan 
to squeeze firmly 
around her neck. 

She cried out dying animal 

wail in the dark held he* hyeatho 

Snakes squeezed harder. VISIONS 
of death danced 'round 
legs and pain stabbed the 
belly, 

NO, I'm never going 
to do that again, 
never gonna do that c 

Maybe if I can find 

my heart, if it still migb-t 

be connected to that 

pull-string let it snap back again, 

c-Vt we reel it in and never #o b^t-ck??? 

Csxi, you 

isolate the roots? Can you 

•trace— the. gn^wJLLiig back inside 



until you've found the 

Golden Bath, 

the smile of Sweet Ambrosia??? 

and let's put the 

snakes out. Let's kill then } 

once and for good. 

She drew a deep breath. 

Streets too busy burning incarcerating 
inside seared flesh. 

And the Dance Caret 
read something like this: wanna creep 
and step around you 'cause you give, 
me so much pain. 

And wanna have the 
magic number sitting in my 
Brain. 

Let's (NO) eat sc^me pilln and 
accidentia (NO) die 
' cause 

you're lookin' at 
love's fool again, 
at love's crazy fool, 
and isn't it funny, 

(continued) 



-7- 



Jmeat McCabe 



TIE MISERIES OF AN AMATEUR WRITER 

As too propeer speling I have no clu 
No eagee advise too giv too you 
Fo nee spellling is a puzzzle of mazzzes 
Of Roobicks cubes annd ndoleaant phrases 

Spilling fo neee is an alien places of 
^urrned out dimentions aggainstt tinnme 
Aridrl space no ry theme no rime no placce. 
Butt ef I amm too maakke it sum dayy 
Eg a ritere of pooem versa or plaay 
Ill'l hav too learne to spill sooome dai 



J»ULJ<.Ut u .''4< 



Maureen Mueller 

THEN 

When I was young , 
Every day brought 

Fresh new beginnings , 
Challenging my mind. 
And every evening ended 
With the glow 
Of the next day ' s dawn. 

-kicXin't-kli-k 



Cathie Durkee 



GIVING UP 

I had to stop forevermore 
loving, hoping, ^evermore 
Can't live on dreams 
Or feelings of pain 

I had to stop forevermore 
caring , wanting , nevermore 
It's easier this way 
Slipping into a black void 

I had to stop forevermore 
dreaming, longing, nevermore 
Making it all go away 
A deathly silence inside 

»\ A A A A- A-A~X 



Judy Belfield 

WHERE AM I GOING? 

Where pn I going? 
I ask myself 5 

and the words ring shallow, 
echoing in the great emptiness, 
as I meet my brothers on the path 
who nod and smile 
as though they know the secret 

but cannot tello 
Where am I going? 

The question begins inno c ent, 
becomes edgy 

and shouts through my nerves, 
becomes wildly enraged, 

boiling in my veins, 
becomes insanely unbridled, 

shaking my bones 

with violent convulsions, 

pleads , 

tears searing into my soul , 

in desperation, 

becomes despondent, 

and slips lifelessly, listlessly, 
near to despair* 
A voice nags somewhere — 

it says the road has no end, 

but that each step 

is an end to be savored, 
I hear the words , 

but don't believe them. 



Maureen Mueller 

CHAMELEON -LIKE, TflEY OIIANGE UPON A WHI M 

Chameleon- like, they change upon a whim — 
Decisions never made, conclusions none, 
Procrastinating while their time grows dim — 
Life's challenges not met, thus never won* 
These apathetic souls ne'er risk nor dare — 
No venturesome a task will undertake, 
Through life they slide, completely unaware 
That precious time is squandered in their wake. 
Ambitions are disrm'sr.ed as asinine -- 
Aspiring tr be aimless is a goal, 
What stimulus can shake these stoic minds „ « „ 
I>7ith eelf-respect not taken as the tollo 

Oh, sons and daughters grasp that i r leeti:ig dream, 
And quell the snuffer near the taper's gleam., 

rlefrkie/rfriek 



-6- 



Melissa Wassail 



WHAT HAPPEHS TO POSTS? 



Cathie Bytrkee 




©^ MUTING 

Words, words 
That*» all I writ® 
Everythifsg .sisspie 
Everything trite 

Simple sentences 
Simple phrases 
Complex idea® ' 
Lost in hazes 

******** 



Hike Stillaaa 

'mi. foot 

The poet 

Wake® up; 

It»9 a poet* a sunrise* 

The poet 

Regards the world; 

It* e a poet's wonder. 

The poet ' 

Cllafos t© the garret | 

It 1 s a poet* a ceratr* 

The po©t 

Bips the quill; 

It's a poet 8 8 quill. 

The poet 

Contemplates; 

It's a po@t s # thought. 

The poet 

fosses quill; - 

It* s a poet's block, 

Mr****** 



*#** I if n 




Melissa Wessell 

M FESL1HSS A8E STBONGER 

Mjy. feelings are stronger 
than 1 ejai, 

assd, bewildered s 

1 quake in their wake* 



*^**sfe*** 



S* %<$* 



-5- 



They Called Me Malevolent, continued 

I pitied them 

as they tightened their belts 

and their eyes became popped-out marbles in ashen sockets — 

pitied them too late, however, 

for as I was about to lend a hand, 

the haze lifted -- 

dissolved into the air from whence it came, 

where it waits for another time to spring — 
and I tell th em about it, 

explaining there are catastrophes yet to come, 
but again they settle into their snug, smug, little cocoons 

and say I'm fanatic 

******** 



Mike Stillman 



DO TECHNICOLOR MINDS BLEED RAINBOW STIGMATA? 



Luke was angry,. Things weren't go- 
ing quite like he had planned, and his 
rugged features were becoming sterner by 
the minute,, Perhaps he would erupt in a 
fit !of jealousy in time for the next com- 
mercial, keeping a nationwide audience 
away from the kitchen while a silver- 
tongued huck c ter sold detergent or design- 
er jeans o Several of these viewers were 
on a bridge over a river forty-one and a 
half degrees north of the eo_uator, at a 
place where the bulkiest and most aggres- 
sive males wore purple, and students were 
sometimes forced to park on the grass, 
The new Sony two-piece television 
displayed an excellent picture for the 
capacity crowd in the scuth lounge, ex- 
cept fer those students who were too 
c loae to the screen, too far to the side, 
behind someone's head, near the windows, 
too far back, or those who had left their 
^ontact/glacses/binoculars in their 
homes/cars/ lockers/other coats, °n their 
way to class or the cafeteria, a few stu- 
dents enjoyed the sunlight reflecting off 
the river, but most were captivated with 
the projections of a small box on a big 
screen. 

Suddenly there appeared an odd shim- 
mering in the space above the projection 
box, and a murmur of confusion arose from 
the viewers. Perhaps this contraption 
still has a few bugs in it, some thought. 
Then the vague shape materialized into a 
long-haired bearded man in his thirties, 
barefoot and wearing ragged clothes* His 
arms were raised in triumph, and he smiled 
at the crowd beatificnl ly fvom In r. perch 
on top of the bl.iHc box* ATI i.\i;> r.ilent 
for oiip. <rrl<l moment. 



Then the stranger addressed the 
multitude in a strong but serene voice, 
"Greetings, brothers, I have returned 
to lead you on the t rU e path in this 
hour of darkness, I see by your beau- 
tiful faces that there is some confu- 
sion as to my identity, Yoa know me 
by many names, I am the Immortal Oae, 
I am Dionysos, Elijah, 3uddha, The 
Avatar, The Father, The Son, The Holy 
Spirit, I am the Head Apollo, St, 
Sophia, Yahweh, Siddhartha, the King. 
I am Shiva, Papa Zen, Vishnu, Dr, 
Pepper, Z or oaster, Kali, The Great 
Punta, Some know me as ^irguna, the 
Big Burrito, Brahma, Monsanto of Turin, 
Rama, Krishnu, »r Jesus, These are 
but labels. I have returned to show 
you," 

He was interrupted by a riotous 
outpour of anger from the crowd, 
"G e t out of the way, Fathead I" 
"Some Hairy- Krishna asshole „ , „" 
"Just what we need, a flower child 
on acid,," 

"Go back to your commune, prick . : " 
The mob began to throw pens, pen- 
cils, and magic markers at the intru- 
der, causing multicolored stigmata 
to appear on his thin face and arms. 
He endured the attack with a sad ex- 
pression on his face, 

As the riot reached a crescendo, 
the students were shocked to see the 
man and all the projectiles disappear. 
Except one, A slim silver pen remain- 
ed lying on the box. 

The room was silent as one student 
walked up to the box and picked up the 
pen cautiously, Jfe rood the i.-ori! en- 
gtvnvd on its clip! 
CROSS 



*** * vV ** vV 

-4- 



^rnest McCabe 

DOES ACID ROCK 

Does acid rock contain hydrochloric or 
sulfuric acid? 
"' v Is "hard rock" just a chip off the old 
block? 

Judy Belfield 

THEY CALLED ME MALEVOLENT 

They called me malevolent 

as I spat out warnings 
for months bef^e the fog fell; 
said I had a negative attitude, 
said I was a false prophet of doom, 
as they patted their tummies, 
cooing, "Things were never better," 

and countered with accounts of the "real" Apocalypse, 
which wasn't expected for years. 
Then they called me heartless 

as I sang in my dehumidified tower 
and glowered as the mist descended. 
For days and days, 

the wicked haze 
in Hightsfield flowered, 
mightily empowered, 
like quintillion reproductions 
of Caesar's legions 
fitted out to conquer Gaul 
aH.d all its three parts „ 
The demonic haze 

fixed its gaze, 
focused its Rasputin eye, 
and crouched beneath the velvet sky, 
hiding slyly near the seas, 

the grasses, aand, 
and trees — ■ 
snickering silently within its weeping belly, 
hurling mute invectives 

through the air o.f those who had not cared — 
but the didn't-cares began to care 
as they suffered their infections 
and wild hallucinations 

with the utmost of clamor and indignant protest, 
but all for naught» 

They ought to have geared them? elves in lead 
when the warnings were given — 
the fools, 
the fools! 

the laidback, complacent fools! *; 

schooled in "That's the way things are," ' 

How dare they complain \ 

•f a pain in their guts • 

after sitting in ruts with smiles on their faces! 
Alas — I pitied the grasshoppers 

who closed their eyes and ears - 

and trusted their fates to those in power; 

who inflicted themselves with welts in the name of piety, 

and who screamed in agony 

as yixt&gar dr^pl-cts front the mLs t-on tered their y.minds^ 

(continued) 

-3- 



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Hike Stillnsa 



ABVEKTXSBfBNI AWESEriS@fl$!F ASMSKFXSEKEHT MffBMlBW^S JJWEBXXSEMHfr AWE8TXSI 

*THEBI6 BOOK OF SHOELACE REFNR* 

Ihis Is & book about the theory &d practice of '©hoel&ce repair as it 
exists today * 9 * not as a dull habit, but ®s a& acute fever, Including 
the history of shoelace repair from 8a@diǤv&l tines to the present, with 
special emphasis or* the influence of the Gordiau School in the &@fiaia« 

sanee, ©f this gremt art fom, this book exusi&egs shoelaces frc® one 
end to the other <> with as eyelet for detail* Sure to become the d©fiai« 
tive ^©rk on the subject thus far, SHE BXS BOOK OF SO0ELACE ®m 
Includes a survey of repair t@c!m£cffaes throughout the world, and' 
exposes the ss«tid.&lmss neglect of shoelace repair ia ^ericas public 
education* Including 400 color plate® and 1*200 black a&d white 
diagrams, this book i® a mist for the professional s^d do«lt»yourself©r 
alike* 

$22«S© fre® Little, Brown, and Go. 



®im?&tm 



Ernest ffcCsb® 



EAS? AS SKATXIN A FLY 



"It's to easy*" Philip »s father said, 
"Just like swatting a fly*" 
So Philip* a father's hand 

Hit the little model universe 
Philip had so carefully constructed* 
It was true, it was as easy 
As swatting a sly* Millions who 

Lived on the little planet died* 



oi 



Meanwhile, on an even larger 

In setter dimension, 

Another father counseled his son* 

"It's easy, just like swattla a fly," 

Sxcept this time, Philip and 

Ml® f nther w@r® em. the other end 

Of the swatter* 



******** 



~1~ 



TABLE 0? CONTENTS 



Melissa Wessell 
Mike Stillman 
Ernest McGc.be 
Melissa Wessell 
Cathie Durkee 
Mike Stillman 
Melissa Wessell 
Ernest McCabe 
Judy Belfield 
Mike Stillman 
R- Wclser Yale 
Ernest McCabe 
Maureen Mueller 
Cathie Durkee 
Judy Belfield 
Maureen Mueller 
Ernest McCabe 
Judy Belfield 
Melissa Wessell 
Elayne Hill 
Judy Belfield 
Mike Stillnan 
Judy Belfield 
Mary Davisson 
Belfield, Dickinson, 
Erink and Moore 
Judy Belfield 
Maureen Mueller 
Judy Belfield 
Melissa Wessell 
Daniel Preston 
Maureen Mueller 
Melissa Wessell 
Judy Belfield 
Maureen Mueller 
Cathie Durkee 
Judy Belfield 

II St 

Maureen Mueller 

Mike Stillman 

Dickinson & Moore 

Patricia McNairy 

Daniel Preston 

Belfield, Dickinson & 

Moore 

Dusty 

Judy Belfield 

Belfield, Cox, 

Dickinson & Moore 

Judy Belfield 

M. E e Cox 

Judy Belfield 



ooo**ooc 



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Life According To ITewton 

The Big Book Of Shoelace Repair.. 

Easy As Swattin' A Fly e » . . 

What Happens To Poetry, . . » 

On Writing 

The Poet.... 

My Feelings Are Stronger. .. . 

Does Acid Rock 

They Called Me Malevolent.... . . . . 

Do Technicolor Minds Bleed Rainbow Stigmata. 
What Goes Up. .,., < ,... ». < ,,.„, a .■„;',„„ ...... 

The Miseries Of An Amateur Writer. 

Then.. 

Giving Up 

Where Am I Going? . . . . 

Chameleon-Like, They Change Upon A Whim 
Yea, The Wheels Are Turnin (Backwards) 

JL licVv © iiS(-i-X Ci o oooqooooooo»ooo*oi>o eooooe 

Madness Revisited For The First Time.. 

Inside Van Godh, Renoir, Raphael, Etc 

Today's Sun Is Trying So Hard. 

Extreme Weirdness 

Every Morning They Come To The Restaurant. . 

The Fisherman' s Wife. 



o o • o o 



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Songs Of The Seeking Souls.. 

Nights Are Long And Lonely 

Subtleties 

Some Men 

Anyone Who Can Drive Away That Clean 

Merry Little Christmas. . . 

Hurdy-Gurdy (Hot too wordy) 

Timothy, Oct. 81 

Yesterday Was Tears. 

My Talisman. .. 

Pi o n c o 

*- i^uo^a • o • o o o • 

Little By Little 

I Have Loved You 

A Love Sonnet 

Endurance 

The Ends And Means Of Innocence. . . 

His Place Or Mine 

I Dreamed Of You. 



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Mental Meanderings On A Tuesday Afternoon. . 

•S-O JO O * O — iOlU xJ\J. O L.J/ O OOO*O00OOOOO©«*0OeoOO 

And Go It Continues* ooooooooooo^ooooooo**©© 



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23 
23 
24 



Vicious Cycle. ........ « 

I Watch Your Breathing, 
Iris. .... ...... ........ 



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Something Perverse. . . . 
** * * **** 



.... 24 
....25 
....25 
25 



WORDEATER XXXVIII STAFF 

Judy Belfield Mark Hulfactor 

ICristi Caxsten Ernest McCabe 

Bob Frederick Dave Moore 

John Stobart 



To get a submission printed in this issue, four 
of the above had to vote for acceptance. 

Manuscripts or cover designs for WORDEATER 
XXXIX, the ne;:t issue, must be submitted to John 
Stobart in room C-1069 by February 26. Manuscripts 
will not be returned. They may be anonymous and 
should be typed. 

Cash prizes are frequently awarded to outstanding 
contributors to an issue. While there were many fine 
submissions made for this issue, no cash prizes were 
awarded for literary entries. 

$20.00 FOR COVER DESIGNS GOES TO 

ED GIRARD 



WORDEATER is collated by staff members and 
other volunteers on the consourse outside G-Building, 
Anyone wishing to help assemble WORDEATER is most 
graciously welcome to join in the fun. 



WORDEATER deadlines this year: 

WORDEATER -.39 . - February 26, 1982 
40 - April 30, 1982